I tumble out of the bed, onto the floor, and back away until my back slams into the wall. I reach up and hit the light switch.

The bed is empty.

I remain on the floor with my back against the wall. My hands and legs are violently trembling.

It’s grief. I know it’s just grief. It’s some part of my sleep-starved brain laying a guilt trip on me for spending an evening with another woman and not thinking about Nicole.

I press my hands against the side of my head and wait for my body to stop shaking.

Finally, I stand up and grab my pillow from the bed.

It’s going to be another night on the couch … and maybe another beer.

July 4th, 1900

My hands are shaking so hard, it’s difficult to write.

Because Father insisted on being open during the Fourth of July Celebration, one of us had to work. Carol left yesterday to visit her sister in Philadelphia. At least, that’s what Father told me. So, one of us was going to have to work and one was going to the picnic. He wanted to go so that he could talk up the pharmacy. I argued that I had been offered the invitation and it would be rude if he attended without me. It took some convincing but Father finally allowed me to attend the Carrington’s Fourth of July Celebration, but only after I promised to mention the pharmacy to everyone at the picnic. It was a lie, but I don’t care.

I spent far too long in front of my mirror. I tried on three different outfits and settled on a green summer dress. I also wore the butterfly necklace.

The day could not have been more perfect. There was red, white, and blue bunting on every house and ribbons on the trees in the square. The parade wouldn’t start for another two hours, but people had already begun to stake their claims on the sidewalks to watch. The main square was beautiful. There were games and concession stands.

I ventured close enough to the pharmacy to peer inside. Father was behind the counter, reading a newspaper. There were no customers, of course. I felt a pang of guilt at how miserable he looked, but it’s only fair for all the time I’ve wasted behind that counter.

It got warmer and I ducked into the only other establishment that was open, besides the pharmacy, which was the soda shop. I purchased a chocolate malt with some of the leftover money Mr. Carrington gave me, and enjoyed it in a booth, next to the window.